


Late nights, paperwork, shots of caffeine

by sunandoceanblue



Series: Thursday Nights, 2100 [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: First Order besties, Gen, Hux and Phasma are bros, Hux is a narcissist, This is short for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunandoceanblue/pseuds/sunandoceanblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>General Hux and Captain Phasma are sitting in his office, a stack of unfinished paperwork in front of them and way too many cups of coffee between them to count.</p>
<p>In which Hux and Phasma are basically college students writing their papers about three days before they're due.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late nights, paperwork, shots of caffeine

**Author's Note:**

> These two are my jam

Hux had very little regrets. In the sense that he really only regretted the little things he had done. He didn't get as far as someone like himself had gotten by having regrets. Rising to the rank of General? He's exceedingly proud to make it this far; it's a title he deserves. Engaging in war with the Resistance? They are the scum of the galaxy and ruining the order. Giving the command to slaughter innocents? People are expendable and its all for a cause.

Staying up late on a Monday night to finish reports of the Stormtrooper training program because the deadline has been pushed up on (very) short notice to Wednesday? It makes him regret ever getting up in the morning and ever attending the Academy and ever being his father's son all at once.

And so General Hux and Captain Phasma are sitting in his office, a stack of unfinished paperwork in front of them and way too many cups of coffee between them to count.

He was grateful Phasma was with him. It would have been a nightmare to be doing this by himself, without having a partner to review and check his work to achieve the best assessment possible. Phasma, unlike the other Captains who worked in field positions as she did, choose to do her own paperwork, believing all aspects of her career were of the utmost importance. Hux greatly admired her for this. And it gave him someone to talk to (in all honest she was probably the _only_ person he actually enjoyed having conversations with).

The early hours of the night were creeping up on them, however, and conversations were basically a thing of the past. Hux was sifting through multiple files on the three-dimensional holos of the troopers' personal history and training records, with the datpad in his hand showing corresponding information from their latest evaluation. He chewed on his pen in between scribbling down notes – notes that he would have to rewrite to make them look presentable. Or maybe he'd just type them. Either way, still more work. Beside him, Phasma was sorting through hardcopy reports of the field assessments evaluation, carefully reading all that the superior officers who were reviewing the troopers' performance had written.

Hux threw his pen on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why does this infernal program exist?"

"You have yourself to thank for that," Phasma reminded him, dry and blunt.

She was right.

He downed another shot of caf and picked his pen back up, continuing to jot down notes.

Under his supervision, the First Order flowed wonderfully well. Everything went accordingly and they were expanding quickly. (Why couldn't the Republic see that their way was obviously superior?) And the reason everything ran so smoothly was because Hux took it upon himself to personally deal with any complications or technicalities. What sort of a leader would he be if he did not actively engage in the work that he ordered his employees to do? Not as worthy of a leader as he saw himself being. And he couldn't have that. Of course, that meant doing mundane tasks such as filling out reports even when they were exceptional, as always. And why wouldn't they be? It was _his_ program, after all; as if it would be anything _less_ than efficient and productive, delivering all the right results.

But was it really worthy sacrificing a good night sleep? ( _Yes, of course, you idiot, keep working._ )

It was getting harder to sit up straight. He has thrown his greatcoat and hat somewhere behind him. His gloves were off and his coat was half undone at the top. Even his perfect hair was beginning to fall out of place. Luckily, Phasma was no better; her short hair was an absolute mess – looking more like a pixie cut than her military cropped hairstyle – and she was clad in her black tights worn under the armour, with an old grey jacket thrown over the top. (She was also wearing slippers because no one could stop her from doing so.

"Sir, I think it's time to call it a night..." Phasma finally suggested, interrupting the highly awkward silence growing between them.

Hux hummed vaguely but never gave a reply.

"I mean," she continued, "these aren't due until Wednesday evening. We still have a whole two days."

"It would be highly inappropriate to finish just before submitting them, and risk not handing them in before the deadline." Even in the Academy, Hux never failed to hand in a paper.

"You need to _sleep_ , Hux," she said, more firmly this time.

"What I _need_ , my dear, is more coffee," he said, throwing her a stern glare (though it looked terrible with how red his eyes were becoming). "Yes, more coffee and I'll be fine."

"Sir—"

"Don't presume to tell me what to do, Captain," Hux snapped. He never growled at Phasma. Unless he was tired. ( _But you're_ not _tired._ ) He poured himself another steaming mug of caf – with far too much sugar in it – using one of the many mugs scattered around his office. "We're almost finished."

* * *

Phasma rolled her eyes at the General, who was now slumped over his desk unceremoniously, looking completely _exhausted_. That man was going to work himself to death; even _she_ considered him workaholic. But he had an empire to build, she supposed. Hux wasn't going to let a few late nights get in his way of galactic domination.

Only he had this night.

**Author's Note:**

> Come pester me on [Tumblr](http://thesunandoceanblue.tumblr.com/)


End file.
